


For What Binds Us

by often_adamanta



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cancer, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-02
Updated: 2005-10-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 08:25:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/often_adamanta/pseuds/often_adamanta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Originally posted at livejournal <a href="http://often-adamanta.livejournal.com/106705.html">here</a>. Alternate ending <a href="http://often-adamanta.livejournal.com/107889.html">here</a>.</p></blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He steps through the door forty-five minutes before his shift, like always, like the last four months that seem like always, but he isn’t greeted by fading sunlight and a cheerful smile today. The blinds are drawn tight, and a painfully old woman is asleep in the hospital bed that dominates the small room.

He backs out on silent feet, the product of four years of nursing patients as they sleep through his night shift. He checks the door and sees that the number is right, but that the patient name no longer says “Bloom, O. B.”

\-----

“Alright, Mrs. Carlington, how are – oh,” Elijah stopped and stared at the dark haired man lying in the bed that just last night had been occupied by a very cranky, plump woman.

“Well,” Elijah said after a moment. “You’re not Mrs. Carlington.”

The man gave him a careful smile. “No.”

“I’m Elijah, one of the nurses here at night.”

“You’re a nurse?” he asked, the smile turning a little more genuine.

“Yes, I am. And please, don’t make me defend my masculinity, Mr.,” a quick glance at the chart he’d just picked up, “Bloom.”

“Please, call me Orli. And I wouldn’t insult another man’s masculinity while wearing a hospital gown.”

Elijah laughed. “Good. Can I do anything for you?”

“Could you open the blinds, please?”

“Of course,” Elijah answered, as he put the chart down, using all his practice at hiding emotions to give no reaction to what he’d just read.

Leukemia.

\-----

“Hey, Kim. Where’s Orli?”

She glances up at him from filing her final paperwork of the day. “Gone, sweetie.” She replies with calm that stems from patients coming and going for longer than Elijah’s been alive.

“Yeah,” he says, and takes his cue from her and pretends that it’s nothing.

\-----

He’s not supposed to wake patients, but Orli’s clearly having a nightmare, so Elijah ‘accidentally’ dropped the chart on the floor.

Orli’s eyes jerked open to see Elijah bending to pick it up with a chagrinned expression.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“Nah. S’okay,” Orli croaked out.

Elijah handed him a glass of water.

“Thanks,” Orli said, then turned on his side to look out the window at the stars.

“Are you going to be alright?” Elijah asked, wanting to stay, but having to go on with his rounds.

Orli made a neutral sound that Elijah took for agreement, but whispered, “I hope so,” as Elijah left.

\-----

“He was such a happy patient, is all,” Jessica explains.

Elijah refills his coffee mug. He had tried not to drink much when he first started work here, but now he's addicted and half believed that he's going to end up dying with track marks like the junkies they have downstairs in ER from pushing caffeine like death into his veins.

“I’m going to miss him smiling when I came in to check on him, instead of getting annoyed like most of the others.”

“That’s it exactly,” Elijah tells her, although it isn’t, not for him.

\-----

“I have my first round of chemo today,” Orli confided when Elijah popped his head in to say good morning and goodbye.

“I know.”

“I’m a little scared.” Elijah admired that he could say it, that he didn’t have to hide behind bravado and detachment.

“How about I sit with you for a little while,” Elijah offered and sat before Orli could argue.

Orli’s fingers were white-knuckled tight on the sheets.

“Would you like me to read to you?” Elijah asked and pulled a copy of _Harry Potter_ out of his bag. He kept it to amuse the children that came to visit family but ended up scared and confused.

“I’d like that.” Orli released a breath and, shuddering, drew in another.

Elijah came in early to see how Orli was doing and read him the second chapter, although he was drifting in and out of consciousness and probably wouldn’t remember.

\-----

You’d think he would have gotten used to the food by now, but he pushes his mashed potatoes around his plate instead of eating because the colorless lump holds no attraction today. He forms a smiley face, filling in the indentation for eyes and a mouth with peas, and then shows it to the twin girls sitting at the table next to him.

They giggle and eat holding hands.

He gets salt-n-vinegar chips and skittles from the vending machine and smiles when he remembers the little magnet on his mom’s fridge door. The diet is definitely off.

But his smile doesn’t last near as long as it usually would.

\-----

“I threw up eleven times last night. It’s a new record.” Elijah laughed at Orli’s jokingly sarcastic tone, although the topic wasn’t funny, as Elijah well knew. He’d witnessed six of the reported incidents.

“I think all I’m good for is falling asleep this morning as well,” Elijah warned Orli as he collapsed into the uncomfortable chair.

“At least we’re together in our exhaustion,” Orli sighed.

“Yeah,” Elijah agreed. “Ours shall be a dashing love affair of falling asleep in front of each other.”

And he really shouldn’t have said anything like that to a patient, but couldn’t work up the guilt to care when Orli started giggling. He’d break any rule to make Orli’s situation easier.

Orli’s skin was lighter than when he’d first come, fading from lack of sun, although Orli’s window was never shut. His veins stood out along the inside of his arm, and Elijah’s brain, on autopilot, considered which would be the best for drawing blood. An IV tube dripped water, medicines, chemo, and, with any luck, life into Orli’s body.

When Orli was well and truly asleep, Elijah stumbled home to do the same, and wondered blearily if they’d meet in dreams.

\-----

“Mr. Sawyer is on suicide watch,” the head nurse informs him at four that morning. “Carol caught him downing a hefty dose of acetaminophen. It wouldn’t have killed him, but we’re not sure he knew that. Psych is coming in the morning.”

Elijah nods, mentally groaning at the extra work that involves, and returns to his duties.

The old woman in Orli’s room has a coughing fit that Elijah is afraid will break her, but other than that, the night passes normally, if slow.

\-----

He checked on Orli five times that night, although it wasn’t strictly necessary. They’re switching to a newer, harsher chemo regimen tomorrow because so far Orli’s cancer has proven stronger than the drugs.

This time Orli’s eyes were open when he came in.

“You left,” Orli accused him, barely audible.

“I’m here.” Elijah thought Orli might not be all awake to say something like that.

“Are you leaving again?”

“I have to, Orli. But if you push the call button, I’ll be back in a flash, as soon as you need me,” Elijah promised, although he worried slightly that he wouldn’t be able to keep it as hectic as the night has been so far.

“Mkay.” Orli watched Elijah slip out the door.

He took two steps before the red call light flashed on above Orli’s door, reflecting off the sanitized floors.

He returned with quick steps, resetting the light and gently calling “Orli?” into the almost dark of illuminated monitors.

“Just checking,” Orli answered, reassured, eyes already drooping shut.

\-----

It’s taking more energy than Elijah has readily available to make it through his shift. Jessica asks him so many times if he’s alright that he loses count, which is itself a mark of how exhausted he is. His brain is trained to pay attention and count and record and remember, and he cannot wait until his shift is over.

But he’s more stubborn than any fatigue, and there’s only an hour left to go.

\-----

Orli was so thin now that Elijah could count his ribs, so sore that they’d brought in special bedding to keep him his tattered body from bruising under it’s own weight, so tired that he didn’t even fight to keep the small dignity his gown allowed him as Elijah helped him back into bed. The trip to the bathroom had been more than Orli could handle, but he’d refused to use the bedpan despite Elijah’s attempted persuasion.

“I wish you didn’t have to see that,” Orli said, a bright red spot appearing on each cheek that could have been from the exertion or from embarrassment at needing help going to the bathroom.

“It’s my job,” Elijah reminded him gently.

“Then I wish you didn’t have to see me like this.” His voice cracked, and he refused to look at Elijah.

“You’re gorgeous,” Elijah told him with all the conviction he had, wiping the tears that flooded Orli’s face away with his fingertips.

“It even hurts to cry,” Orli whispered, and Elijah could only nod, unshed tears burning his own eyes.

\-----

He walks wearily toward the bus stop, thinking how strange it is to leave exactly when his shift’s over and not stay to watch the sunrise framed by Orli’s window. He drops to the bench and buries his head in his hands, not looking up when someone joins him on the bench.

“Such a beautiful morning, isn’t it?” a familiar voice asks, and Elijah jerks his head up. Orli smiles at him. “It’s so great to be outside.”

“You left,” Elijah accuses him, unusually irrational and not knowing what to do with Orli outside the hospital.

“I did it, Lij! Remission!” Orli almost shouts, beaming at Elijah.

“That’s so great,” Elijah tells him, and laughs triumphantly, ignoring the edge of hysteria. And, “You look good in real clothes.”

“You look like shit,” Orli says honestly, concerned.

“Yeah, well. It was a long shift.”

“What happened?”

“One of my favorite patients left. And I’m so happy for him, but it was difficult without him. I wasn’t really expecting that.”

“Must have been quite the guy to upset you this much,” Orli comments with a smirk.

“Sure was,” Elijah agrees, all seriousness, and the humor leaves Orli’s face for something more poignant, and Elijah, even after four months of studying Orli, isn’t sure what this new expression means.

“C’mon. I’ll take you home,” Orli offers, but stands and pulls Elijah up before he can protest.

Elijah puts an arm around Orli to steady himself, and can feel Orli’s ribs through his shirt, still too thin from fighting, from almost dying, and tears Elijah’s been denying since he read Orli’s chart that first time pool in the corners of his eyes and slide down his cheeks.

Orli wipes them gently away with his fingertips before guiding Elijah home to take care of him.


	2. Chapter 2

He steps through the door forty-five minutes before his shift, like always, like the last four months that seem like always, but he isn’t greeted by fading sunlight and a cheerful smile today. The blinds are drawn tight, and a painfully old woman is asleep in the hospital bed that dominates the small room.

He backs out on silent feet, the product of four years of nursing patients as they sleep through his night shift. He checks the door and sees that the number is right, but that the patient name no longer says “Bloom, O. B.”

\-----

“Alright, Mrs. Carlington, how are – oh,” Elijah stopped and stared at the dark haired man lying in the bed that just last night had been occupied by a very cranky, plump woman.

“Well,” Elijah said after a moment. “You’re not Mrs. Carlington.”

The man gave him a careful smile. “No.”

“I’m Elijah, one of the nurses here at night.”

“You’re a nurse?” he asked, the smile turning a little more genuine.

“Yes, I am. And please, don’t make me defend my masculinity, Mr.,” a quick glance at the chart he’d just picked up, “Bloom.”

“Please, call me Orli. And I wouldn’t insult another man’s masculinity while wearing a hospital gown.”

Elijah laughed. “Good. Can I do anything for you?”

“Could you open the blinds, please?”

“Of course,” Elijah answered, as he put the chart down, using all his practice at hiding emotions to give no reaction to what he’d just read.

Leukemia.

\-----

“Hey, Kim. Where’s Orli?”

She glances up at him from filing her final paperwork of the day. “Gone, sweetie.” She replies with calm that stems from patients coming and going for longer than Elijah’s been alive.

“Yeah,” he says, and takes his cue from her and pretends that it’s nothing.

\-----

He’s not supposed to wake patients, but Orli’s clearly having a nightmare, so Elijah ‘accidentally’ dropped the chart on the floor.

Orli’s eyes jerked open to see Elijah bending to pick it up with a chagrinned expression.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“Nah. S’okay,” Orli croaked out.

Elijah handed him a glass of water.

“Thanks,” Orli said, then turned on his side to look out the window at the stars.

“Are you going to be alright?” Elijah asked, wanting to stay, but having to go on with his rounds.

Orli made a neutral sound that Elijah took for agreement, but whispered, “I hope so,” as Elijah left.

\-----

“He was such a happy patient, is all,” Jessica explains.

Elijah refills his coffee mug. He had tried not to drink much when he first started work here, but now he was addicted and half believed that he was going to end up dying with track marks like the junkies they had downstairs in ER from pushing caffeine like death into his veins.

“I’m going to miss him smiling when I came in to check on him, instead of getting annoyed like most of the others.”

“That’s it exactly,” Elijah tells her, although it isn’t, not for him.

\-----

“I have my first round of chemo today,” Orli confided when Elijah popped his head in to say good morning and goodbye.

“I know.”

“I’m a little scared.” Elijah admired that he could say it, that he didn’t have to hide behind bravado and detachment.

“How about I sit with you for a little while,” Elijah offered and sat before Orli could argue.

Orli’s fingers were white-knuckled tight on the sheets.

“Would you like me to read to you?” Elijah asked and pulled a copy of _Harry Potter_ out of his bag. He kept it to amuse the children that came to visit family but ended up scared and confused.

“I’d like that.” Orli released a breath and, shuddering, drew in another.

Elijah came in early to see how Orli was doing and read him the second chapter, although he was drifting in and out of consciousness and probably wouldn’t remember.

\-----

You’d think he would have gotten used to the food by now, but he pushes his mashed potatoes around his plate instead of eating because the colorless lump holds no attraction today. He forms a smiley face, filling in the indentation for eyes and a mouth with peas, and then shows it to the twin girls sitting at the table next to him.

They giggle and eat holding hands.

He gets salt-n-vinegar chips and skittles from the vending machine and smiles when he remembers the little magnet on his mom’s fridge door. The diet is definitely off.

But his smile doesn’t last near as long as it usually would.

\-----

“I threw up eleven times last night. It’s a new record.” Elijah laughed at Orli’s jokingly sarcastic tone, although the topic wasn’t funny, as Elijah well knew. He’d witnessed six of the reported incidents.

“I think all I’m good for is falling asleep this morning as well,” Elijah warned Orli as he collapsed into the uncomfortable chair.

“At least we’re together in our exhaustion,” Orli sighed.

“Yeah,” Elijah agreed. “Ours shall be a dashing love affair of falling asleep in front of each other.”

And he really shouldn’t have said anything like that to a patient, but couldn’t work up the guilt to care when Orli started giggling. He’d break any rule to make Orli’s situation easier.

Orli’s skin was lighter than when he’d first come, fading from lack of sun, although Orli’s window was never shut. His veins stood out along the inside of his arm, and Elijah’s brain, on autopilot, considered which would be the best for drawing blood. An IV tube dripped water, medicines, chemo, and, with any luck, life into Orli’s body.

When Orli was well and truly asleep, Elijah stumbled home to do the same, and wondered blearily if they’d meet in dreams.

\-----

“Mr. Sawyer is on suicide watch,” the head nurse informs him at four that morning. “Carol caught him downing a hefty dose of acetaminophen. It wouldn’t have killed him, but we’re not sure he knew that. Psych is coming in the morning.”

Elijah nods, mentally groaning at the extra work that involves, and returns to his duties.

The old woman in Orli’s room has a coughing fit that Elijah is afraid will break her, but other than that, the night passes normally, if slow.

\-----

He checked on Orli five times that night, although it wasn’t strictly necessary. They’re switching to a newer, harsher chemo regimen tomorrow because so far Orli’s cancer has proven stronger than the drugs.

This time Orli’s eyes were open when he came in.

“You left,” Orli accused him, barely audible.

“I’m here.” Elijah thought Orli might not be all awake to say something like that.

“Are you leaving again?”

“I have to, Orli. But if you push the call button, I’ll be back in a flash, as soon as you need me,” Elijah promised, although he worried slightly that he wouldn’t be able to keep it as hectic as the night has been so far.

“Mkay.” Orli watched Elijah slip out the door.

He took two steps before the red call light flashed on above Orli’s door, reflecting off the sanitized floors.

He returned with quick steps, resetting the light and gently calling “Orli?” into the almost dark of illuminated monitors.

“Just checking,” Orli answered, reassured, eyes already drooping shut.

\-----

It’s taking more energy than Elijah has readily available to make it through his shift. Jessica asks him so many times if he’s alright that he loses count, which is itself a mark of how exhausted he is. His brain is trained to pay attention and count and record and remember, and he cannot wait until his shift is over.

But he’s more stubborn than any fatigue, and there’s only an hour left to go.

\-----

Orli was so thin now that Elijah could count his ribs, so sore that they’d brought in special bedding to keep his tattered body from bruising under it’s own weight, so tired that he didn’t even fight to keep the small dignity his gown allowed him as Elijah helped him back into bed. The trip to the bathroom had been more than Orli could handle, but he’d refused to use the bedpan despite Elijah’s attempted persuasion.

“I wish you didn’t have to see that,” Orli said, a bright red spot appearing on each cheek that could have been from the exertion or from embarrassment at needing help going to the bathroom.

“It’s my job,” Elijah reminded him gently.

“Then I wish you didn’t have to see me like this.” His voice cracked, and he refused to look at Elijah.

“You’re gorgeous,” Elijah told him with all the conviction he had, wiping the tears that flooded Orli’s face away with his fingertips.

“It even hurts to cry,” Orli whispered, and Elijah could only nod, unshed tears burning his own eyes.

\-----

He walks wearily toward the bus stop, thinking how strange it is to leave exactly when his shift’s over and not stay to watch the sunrise framed by Orli’s window. He drops to the bench and buries his head in his hands, not moving until his bus creaked to a stop in front of him.

Reaching his apartment, and it seems to take longer this time, he throws himself into the shower to wash away the smell of sickness and antiseptic. It’s one of the only things about his job he hates, and he can’t just fall into bed, not even today.

He forces himself to eat a leftover muffin, compromising with his protesting stomach by drinking another cup of coffee, even though that’s probably the last thing he needs.

When he finally crawls into bed, he flings open the heavy curtains so that he can see out the window and buries his face in his pillow to block out the light. If any tears escape that morning as he falls asleep, no one’s there to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at livejournal [here](http://often-adamanta.livejournal.com/106705.html). Alternate ending [here](http://often-adamanta.livejournal.com/107889.html).


End file.
